


Nasty Naughty Boy

by gblvr



Category: CSI: Las Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drag Queen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gblvr/pseuds/gblvr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy Birthday, Gil!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nasty Naughty Boy

Despite himself, Gil had to admit he having a great time. Catherine and Al had picked him up earlier in the evening for dinner and drinks, and now they were at the newest cabaret show on the Strip. He was pleasantly buzzed from all the wine they'd drunk with dinner, and he was amusing himself with wondering what all the girls looked like when they were boys, while trying to ignore the whispering coming across the table from Catherine and Al.

"What are you two up to now?" Gil tried to look suspicious; it must have worked because when they looked up, they were trying their best to look innocent.

"What makes you think we're up to something?"

Gil looked over his glasses at them as he asked, "Al, how long have we been friends?"

"Oh, I'd say about fifteen years, or so."

"Catherine?"

Catherine winked, "Eight years, boss."

"So what makes you think I don't know when you're up to something?"

Al put a hand to his heart, and sighed melodramatically. "All this work to liquor you up and feed you instead of just entertaining you, and this is the thanks we get?"

"We just want to show you a good time on your birthday, Gil." Catherine smiled widely as she spoke.

"Hmm. Somehow I don't believe you. I still haven't forgotten last year, you know."

"Hey! How was I supposed to know that 'The Butterfly's Life' wasn't about bugs?"

Catherine nearly spit her drink across the table before she was able to swallow; she wiped her mouth on a napkin and said, "Oh, I don't know, Al. The hot pink and purple movie poster should have been your first clue."

"The manager is still traumatized by the hissy fit you threw on your way through the lobby -- she asks me if you're okay anytime I go in for a movie."

Gil threw a wadded napkin at Al, and signaled the waitress. "Just for that crack, you're buying the next round of drinks."

 

After a few more rounds, Gil was relaxed enough to ask Catherine why she'd chose a cabaret act done by drag queens; in point of fact has was more than a little drunk.

"Remember that guy I told you about? The bartender who thought he looked better than most women in a bikini?" Both Gil and Al nodded. "Well, he's in the show. I promised him I'd come, and I figured you'd like it. Why? You don't like it?"

Al shrugged and said, "I tend to like my women with indoor plumbing."

"What about you, Gil?"

Gil looked at the stage where a Tina Turner impersonator was bumping and grinding her way through 'Proud Mary'; he watched the sway of fringe against her legs for a minute, wondering how to frame his response.

When the song ended, he turned his attention back to Catherine and said, "I think the performers are very good."

"What kind of answer is that?"

Gil shook his head and turned back to the stage, barely listening as Al told Catherine to give up since it was clear he wasn't going to give another answer. He clapped politely for the next performer, and nodded when Catherine told him she was going to powder her nose.

When the number ended, he noticed their drinks were empty, so he looked around for their waitress. He didn't see her on the floor, so he looked over at the bar, hoping she might be there. What he saw instead was Catherine, slipping a folded napkin across the bar. She smiled and chatted with the bartender, who was nodding in agreement with whatever she was saying. With a final smile, Catherine turned back toward their table; when she met Gil's stare, the smile became a smirk.

As she slid into her chair, Gil asked, "Since when does powdering your nose include slipping notes to the bartender?"

"Well, it usually doesn't, but he gave me some great makeup tips; I gave him my number so we can get together later for girl talk."

"He what...?" Gil drifted off when he saw that Catherine wasn't looking at him; she'd turned her attention to the stage, where the curtain had just gone down on a pair of ABBA impersonators. He couldn't see what had caught her attention, but when he tried to ask her what had gone on over at the bar, she shushed him.

"Just relax and enjoy the show, Gil."

One look at Al and he knew relaxing was the last thing he should do -- the smile on his face was the kind that came right before a really good prank, and since it was his birthday, Gil knew he was the victim. Before he could decide to pursue the issue, the show started again.

"A very pleasant evening, ladies and gentleman. It is now time for the one and only, there never will be another, Greta Sanders!" The swirling lights and swelling music were timed to end as the curtain rose, and the spotlights coalesced on a figure in white, draped over a piano.

The bluesy horns and piano were a throwback to another age, as was the crackle of the microphone, and if Gil closed his eyes he could almost imagine that he was in a smoky speakeasy, wearing a fedora and drinking a martini made with bathtub gin.

When the lyrics started he opened his eyes again, and watched as Greta made love to the microphone. The only impression he had of her was red lips against the silver grill of the old-fashioned microphone, a long fall of blonde curls that spilled over the keyboard and the long line of her body -- it looked like her legs went on forever, one smooth line from hip to toe.

The song came to an end, and the crowd applauded and whistled enthusiastically; Gil was impressed as well, and he turned to Catherine and Al to say so, but the words stopped up in his throat when he saw twin looks of anticipation on their faces.

Gil was about to leave the table, hoping to avoid whatever it was they had planned for him, when the spotlight turned to their table.

Greta crooked her finger a bit, beckoning as she said, "Come 'ere, big boy." When Gil shook his head, she snapped her fingers and the music started up again, slow and sexy, as Greta crossed the floor.

She swayed in time to the music, singing as she moved, and Gil couldn't have moved if his life depended on it. It was as if Greta had sprung to life out of his fondest adolescent fantasies -- those red, red lips, the flash of garter belt at her thigh, the way her hips moved as she walked -- he was mesmerized.

She worked her way through the room, running her fingers through people's hair, stroking a finger along their cheeks as she passed, but not stopping until she reached their table.

Greta walked around Gil, trailing a perfectly manicured nail along his shoulders and up around his ear as she sang, "I'll give you some ooh la la. Voulez vous coucher avec moi? I got you breakin' into a sweat, got you hot, bothered and wet, you nasty boy."

Gil could feel the blood rushing to his face; that is, whatever blood hadn't already gone to his cock. Greta might have looked like his teenaged fantasy, but she definitely didn't sound like it. The combination was insanely erotic, and he was as turned on as he could ever remember being. When Greta perched on his lap, and pressed her thigh against his erection, it was all he could do to not moan out loud.

Greta smiled a bit as she pressed her fingers to Gil's mouth and sang, "Hush now, don't say a word, I'm gonna give you what you deserve. Now you better give me a little taste, put your icing on my cake, you nasty boy."

The suggestive wiggle of her hips accompanying the last line was nearly his undoing. He breathed deeply and listened to what was beyond the small bubble of Greta, him and the music -- the suggestive whistles and catcalls (from all over the club, including Catherine and Al) dampened his libido a bit, and he was able to relax as Greta shifted off his lap and wandered around to the surrounding tables.

It wasn't long before she was back though, touching him in all the right places, teasing at his nerves before she buried her fingers in his hair and tipped his head back to look in his eyes as she sang. "Now that you're ready, give it to me. Just give me that hot, sweet, sexy lovin'." The twinkle in her brown eyes was unmistakable -- she knew what she was doing to him, and she was enjoying every minute of it.

The music changed then, rolling to a crescendo and Greta vamped a bit, saying, "Now gimme a little spanking," before turning and pushing her ass towards Gil's face. He shrank back a bit and held his hand up between them, shaking his head. Greta pouted and wiggled a bit and said, "Is that all you got?"

Gil flushed again, which brought a smile to Greta's face. She settled in his lap for the finale, plucking his hand off the table and placing it so high on her thigh that he could feel skin and the lacy top of her stocking.

As the song came to an end, and the crowd went wild; under cover of the noise, Greta leaned in and said, "Happy Birthday, Mr. Grissom." Gil shot a look at Catherine, who just shrugged and continued to clap.

Gil turned his attention back to Greta, who had slipped a folded piece of paper from the front of her dress. She pressed it into his hand, leaned in to him a kiss on the cheek, and said, "Call me sometime."

Gil waited until she was onstage again before he unfolded it. He smiled when he read the words scrawled across the red lip print in the center of the paper:

_I don't usually do this, but when Cath told me she was bringing you, I had to take the chance. My number is 555-1297; I'd love to get to know you better..._

-Greg

Okay, maybe letting Catherine and Al pick the place wasn't such a bad idea after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks go to elmyraemilie for not thinking I was completely crazy when I told her about this one, and for the bit of brainstorming that led to Gil's reaction when Greta demanded her spanking.
> 
> All lyrics used in this story are from the album _Back to Basics_ by Christina Aguilera; specifically, Greta's intro is taken from "Intro (Back to Basics)" and the song she teases Gil with is "Nasty Naughty Boy", which I also used as my title.


End file.
